


The Wedding in the Kitchen

by serendipityxxi



Category: Bones (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-05-30
Updated: 2012-05-30
Packaged: 2017-11-06 06:57:19
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 664
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/416044
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/serendipityxxi/pseuds/serendipityxxi
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>No there were no rings involved, and no priests, but somewhere in there they got married.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Wedding in the Kitchen

**Author's Note:**

> Author’s Note: On the island of Tobago in the foothills of what once was a sugar plantation there is the three centuries old grave of a woman named Betty Stivens, the inscription reads "She was a... wife without letting her Husband know it, except by her kind indulgences to him." This epitaph and thoughts of Booth lead to this fic.
> 
>  
> 
> Disclaimer: Disclaimed.

Spoilers: Through 623 just to be safe.

~~~~~~

It happens one morning over breakfast. Booth is at the sink doing the dishes from the night before and Bones walks in wearing his shirt, his boxers, and reaches past him for a glass from the drainer. She kisses his shoulder absently as she pulls back. He smiles sleepily at her while she pours her juice. It’s a perfectly ordinary morning; the sun is shining in through their kitchen window, the coffee is percolating on the counter behind him, they’ve had four other mornings like this in that week alone.

“Don’t forget this weekend we have Jack and Angela’s dinner party to attend,” she reminds him.

Booth nods, still in the unable to communicate stage before he’s had his morning coffee.

At the table she sighs, “and the weekend after that there’s the benefit for the FBI,” ticking another lost weekend off her fingers.

Booth nods and the ding of the coffee maker makes his heart leap. He snags his cup and pours the nectar of the gods that is Bones’ favourite blend into his cup.

“And the weekend after that we have Parker’s soccer match,” she continues. “And in July there’s the function for the Jeffersonian and then in two years they’ll have the centennial celebration and that will be even larger with even more obnoxious donors who think having a great deal of money means that I am required to explain every minute detail of my work to them and then they act horrified when I mention decomposition rates or -”

“Are you trying to tell me you miss having alone time with me, Dr. Brennan?” he gives her the charm smile and a wink over the top of his coffee mug.

Bones, she just rolls her eyes at him, scrolling through her calendar on her phone, listing off a seemingly never ending schedule of events that they’ll both be expected to attend. Booth however has stopped listening because these are things they’ll both be attending, as partners in every sense of the word. And Bones is listing them as if she has no doubt that they will be attending these events together, as if it’s a given. That in ten, twenty, forty years from now they’ll still be going to the boring FBI fundraiser and Bones will be cantankerous in her old age and he’ll probably be rocking a cane with flames up the side (and Angela and Hodgins will probably still be sneaking off to have sex in the Egyptian room) but her words they tell him she’s begun to take for granted the fact that these things will happen.

He feels his heart swell in his chest as she continues to speak. No there were no rings involved, and no priests (honestly he’s always a little scared when he’s in the same room with her and a man of the cloth), but somewhere in there they got married. What is marriage anyway if not sharing your life with someone else, loving them, helping them, saving them, losing one’s imperviousness for them, becoming less angry for them.

Booth puts down his mug on the counter top. Bones is still talking but he goes to her at their kitchen table and kisses her, long and slow with just a hint of tongue. When he pulls back Bones gives him that smile she sometimes does, wide and full of wonder, a little bit shy as if she’s sometimes still surprised they can do that now. “What was that for?” she asks.

Booth grins at her, enjoying the way the sunshine crossing their table brings out the copper lights in her auburn hair. “You know,” he tells her and watches with affection as her eyes narrow in confusion.

“What? What do I know?” she demands.

He smiles enigmatically at her and goes back to the sink.

“Booth,” she complains.

Booth just hums a little under his breath as he washes out the spaghetti pot.

Everything happens eventually.


End file.
